


Eyes

by AndiiErestor



Series: Drabbles Out of Control [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, sort of Glorfindel but in thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiiErestor/pseuds/AndiiErestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drabble request: "My character will tell yours about something they see every day."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Listen closely. I will tell you what I see.

Every morn I wake to soft sunlight filtering through my curtains. It sweeps across my room, across the floor and o'er my bed sheets. Dust floats harmlessly through shafts of light. My room is bathed in gold for a few hours while I dress.

Once properly clothed, I have breakfast in the Hall with any others who are up at that early hour. There are a few 'smiths finishing up and leaving to get started for a long day of work. The guard filters in and out eating quick but no less sustaining meals before their own shifts on the border. There are families seated together. Parents sigh fondly as their children argue about which foods they like and which they will trade for more bread.

Breakfast concluded, I take a long walk in the forest before starting my own work for the day. There is not yet sufficient light for my liking, and I despise working by candlelight.

This walk will take me through the gardens, where I will admire the well kept roses and hydrangeas. Though I know not who cares for them, their work means more to me than I can say. Here the light shines through the leaves of the trees to illuminate the bushes.

After the gardens, I will walk into the woods to a small creek nearby. It is thankfully a bit later now, and the sun is not completely blocked out by the trees, for it would be rather dark here otherwise. There are birds singing, though I _cannot_ see them. They sing of beautiful spring days and rays of sunshine. The winds whistles softly through the branches, and the leaves wave in its wake. The water babbles over rocks and and little waves crash over each other to get _I know not where_. There are stones of an immense size covered in moss on the other side of a clearing

I must go now, for I have reached the time of day where I tend to get lost in thought at the simple beauty of the world around me. I'm afraid that you might find it very hard to keep up with me if I tried to explain everything to you beyond this point.

Good day.


End file.
